


Search and Seizure

by Kryptaria, stephrc79



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Consensual Violence, Fluff, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Romance, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/pseuds/Kryptaria, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephrc79/pseuds/stephrc79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two assassination attempts on MI6 executives, the British Secret Service now requires self-defence training for all high level employees. Bond and Alec have taken it upon themselves to help keep their lover safe, no matter how much Q might hate them for it. </p><p>Too bad they never seem to be able to stay on track.</p><p>(a.k.a. frisking porn with plot)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beautifullyheeled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullyheeled/gifts), [Skylocked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylocked/gifts).



> A gift for Beautifullyheeled and Skylocked, for putting up with the way we finished Where Loyalties Lie while they were sitting there on the couch, watching.
> 
> So much thanks and love for our betas, in alphabetical order, EatingCroutons, Honeybee221B, Kymethra, and Rayvanfox.
> 
> ~~~~

As soon as Q stepped into the flat, he realised something was wrong. His keycard and biometrics should have identified him to the security system, which meant Red Queen should have immediately reported the alarm system status: anything from overwatch to sleep mode. This time, though, there was no soft female voice to fill the ominous, dark silence in the foyer.

Immediately, he turned back to leave, only to end up face-to-muzzle with an unfamiliar gun. A .357 revolver, to be precise, and the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man blocking Q’s escape into the hallway.

Q’s heart skipped, and he took a single second to catalogue his assets — heavy laptop bag, hanging across his chest rather than on one shoulder; mobile phone in his pocket, sleek and lightweight and useless; keys that would require him to get far too close to an enemy to use them as a weapon.

 _Shit_.

He took a step back and kicked the door against the intruder as hard as he could to buy himself time to escape. There was a safe room off the living room. Five long strides from the foyer to the hall, four more to the safe room entrance behind the panel with the _Whistlejacket_ reproduction. There were weapons on the way there — one under the foyer table where he usually put his keycard and wallet, one on either side of the couch, and a shotgun under the bar — but if the flat’s security had been compromised, he couldn’t trust that any of them were there and still loaded.

Four running steps brought him to the hall, where he banged his shoulder hard into the living room archway. His dress shoes skidded on the hardwood floor as he turned, heading for the painting. There was no sense in wasting his breath by shouting. The whole building had thick walls which made life convenient most of the time. Plus he had secure, tamper-proof comms in the safe room.

He had the painting pushed aside and his hand on the door latch when a familiar voice said, “You hesitated at the door.” Alec Trevelyan walked in and removed the black balaclava that had obscured his features. He tossed it aside and shook the hair out of his eyes.

“Fucking god, Alec!” Q turned, adrenaline still raging through his veins, and went for the nearest light switch.

Bond beat him to it, sliding the dimmer switch up to a soft glow. “But he went for the safe room, instead of fucking around.”

“True,” Alec agreed, thumbing the cylinder release on the revolver. He gave it a shake and depressed the ejector rod to show it was unloaded. Then he snapped the cylinder back into place and holstered the revolver under his dark shirt, concealing it.

“I’m going to kill you both one of these days,” Q threatened, sinking back against the wall as he started to shake. Not much — one couldn’t live with two assassins and not grow accustomed to a certain level of chaos — but enough to be noticeable.

“Q, you’ve hesitated anywhere between one and six seconds the last three times you were tested. At this rate, you’ll be offed long before we will,” Bond pointed out.

“Not if I kill you in your sleep tonight,” Q muttered, easing the messenger bag over his head. Mercifully, Bond took it without mentioning the dismal lack of weapons or the downright hazardous way Q carried it strapped across his chest. Over one shoulder, Q could have dropped the bag into his hand and used it as a weapon or a shield. Across his chest, all he was doing was making it harder to have the bag stolen on the Tube — a habit carried over from his student days.

Unfortunately, these tests were mandatory for all MI6 executives after two assassination attempts: one on Mallory and one on Davis, head of Medical. (Privately, Q suspected Bond was behind the Davis hit, only because Davis hadn’t _actually_ been injured — just frightened into Psych for counselling. Because Davis was an officious arse, Q hadn’t bothered informing anyone of this.)

“You need to stop hesitating,” Alec agreed, holding out his hand to take Q’s coat as Bond set the messenger bag down on the floor.

Q took a deep breath, looking first at Bond — still offensively gorgeous in a bespoke suit — and then at Alec, dressed all in dark clothes and ratty jeans, like a fashion designer’s version of a street thug.

“Stop hesitating. Right,” Q said, letting his eyes drop down Alec’s body.

Before either of the two agents could say another word, Q stepped over the messenger bag, clenched his left fist, and hit Alec as hard as he could in the sternum. Alec let out a pained grunt, caught entirely wrong-footed, and didn’t even snatch at Q’s hand when he went for the revolver.

Another step carried Q past Alec. Q pivoted neatly, putting himself out of Alec’s reach, and levelled the revolver at Bond. With his thumb, he drew back the hammer, ignoring the way it made his mild carpal tunnel twinge.

“Better?”

Bond smiled appreciatively for a second before his right hand slapped down onto Q’s wrist. He yanked the gun out of Q’s grip to throw it across the room before he reached up with his left to come down hard on the crook of Q’s elbow. Grabbing at Q’s wrist again, he twisted Q’s arm around, throwing him forward at the waist before finally pinning him, bent over, by his nape.

The whole attack couldn’t have taken more than four seconds.

Calmly, Bond said, “I don’t know, Q. You tell me.”

“Fucking _hell_ , James!” Q snapped furiously, taking a deep, sharp breath to try and get his anger under control. His wrist hurt and all he wanted was a fucking hot dinner and a relaxing fucking evening at home. Not _this_.

Alec’s hand on Q’s shoulder offered no comfort, since he just patted, rather than helping Q get free. “You should have pulled the trigger.”

“Fuck you _both_ and your damned tests!”

“Now, now, Q. Get as mad as you want. If inciting your anger makes you less of an easy target, I’m willing to make you positively murderous.” Bond released Q, who pulled away from _both_ of his idiot agents and rubbed at his arm. If this kept up, Bond was going to find his bloody Aston Martin Vanquish impounded. Possibly in Belgium.

“Unfortunately, anger can also lead to stupid mistakes. Not shooting us both, for one. Not checking either of us for weapons.” Alec gave Q what was probably meant to be an encouraging smile. Apparently, he was going to be the ‘nice’ one tonight. That or he was trying to get Q’s guard down.

“I issue you both all of your weapons, and there isn’t even a bloody ice pick hidden in this flat that I don’t know about.” Q glared at them both and went for the bar, thinking that one of Bond’s best crystal tumblers would make a fine bludgeon if either of them came in range. “You’ve got your .380 in an ankle holster, left side, and a cheap switchblade in your right front jeans pocket. Bond’s still carrying _my_ Walther, left side shoulder holster.”

"All of that is true, yes. But you know that because you know us. You know our home.” Bond followed Q over to the bar, but stopped short when Q stared at him threateningly. “Alec is also right, though, surprising as that may seem. If some hitman for a Colombian crime syndicate comes sniffing around, will you know what _he’s_ carrying? Most likely, no.”

 _They’re supposed to be doing this,_ Q told himself as he went for Bond’s top shelf whiskey. They were trying to protect him — or, more pointedly, to give him the skills he needed to protect himself. This was their clumsy, socially inept, inconvenient way of trying to be helpful, very much like a new hire thinking he should reroute every bloody Ethernet cable in the office to ‘helpfully’ rearrange the switches in convenient number order.

It was very possible that said new hire was still unemployed three months later. They’d probably heard Q shouting at him all the way across the Channel.

“If an _unfamiliar_ assassin breaks into the flat, bypasses Red Queen, and knows to intercept me before I reach our hidden safe room, I will happily shoot him and utterly ruin your painting,” Q said, pouring a far too generous measure into his glass. “I am _not_ going to pull a bloody trigger on a gun _I_ haven’t verified is unloaded when that gun is pointed at someone I’m shagging, no matter how fucking tempted I may be.” He took a swallow, not bothering to savour the taste, and added archly, “Or have we _stopped_ shagging, giving me a free and clear target?”

Alec shot Bond a look and pointedly kept his mouth shut, possibly saving his life — or at least his relationship. Bond finally closed the distance to the bar and reached across Q for a glass of his own. As he leaned over to reach for the whiskey, he whispered in Q’s ear, “I would very much appreciate you _not_ shooting me.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Q answered, some of his anger fading. _Only_ some. These two owed him a great deal more than a glass of whiskey if they wanted his complete forgiveness. He took another drink while keeping one eye on Alec, who was heading for the bar. Probably thinking he needed to kiss arse as well. He was clever that way.

As Bond started to straighten up, Alec disappeared from Q’s sight for a brief moment. When he rose, Q caught a flash of matte black in Alec’s hand.

Certain reactions were instinctive upon seeing the muzzle of a gun, which explained the adrenaline that hit Q’s system all over again. What wasn’t instinctive — or rational, for that matter — was the spike of pure, blind anger that swept over the adrenaline, pushing Q firmly on the _fight_ side of the _fight or flight_ equation.

“Fucking —” was as far as he got before Alec levelled the gun at the back of Bond’s head. When the muzzle crushed Bond’s hair to his skull, Bond braced himself against the bar, but didn’t move. Q could hear his breath coming in slow and steady, as his overactive senses visibly warred with the knowledge that it was Alec holding the gun.

“We can’t exactly criticise him for something we haven’t taught him, James,” Alec said in a reasonable, calm tone.

“And you think putting a gun to _my_ head is going to teach him anything?” Bond said through gritted teeth. Q could see the tension in Bond’s shoulders getting worse, not better. It was only a matter of time before he snapped, and then it would be Alec facing the gun.

“I’m not bloody well pointing it at _him_. He’s not an idiot, James. He’s already threatened to kill us in our sleep, and he’ll get away with it, too. Mallory likes him more than us.”

“At least you’re being reasonable now,” Q said, taking another drink. It was probably unwise — whiskey, adrenaline, and an empty stomach made for poor self-control — but he couldn’t be arsed to care. “What precisely am I supposed to get out of this?”

“Come around, and we’ll show you everywhere he could be hiding a weapon,” Alec invited. He moved behind Bond, probably to kick his feet apart, judging by how Bond shifted and glared.

“You think maybe we could lower the gun?” Bond asked. “I really don’t want Q being collateral damage in my attempt to kill you for this.”

“As if I’m stupid enough to do that? Q, come around, before I actually have to shoot him.”

Q kept hold of his drink as he circled the bar. “If that thing’s loaded —”

“I’m not a _complete_ idiot. It’s unloaded, but his Walther isn’t. He was an observer for this exercise, not a participant.”

Bond huffed out a little laugh in response. “If I’m such a bloody observer, then let me ask again: Why am I the one with a gun to my head? Q, come here and let us show you how it's done.” He slowly reached back to take hold of Q’s wrist — gently, this time — to guide Q to stand behind him. Alec shifted to the right to make room. “Now, Q, what did they teach you in that training seminar at HQ?”

“Primarily to use ineffective, non-lethal alarms and to run,” Q complained, though with less venom than before.

“Charitably, we could point out that your objective is survival, not elimination of the threat,” Alec said, still holding the gun to the back of Bond’s head, “though we could also point out that the bloody bureaucrats who wrote the training materials probably haven’t been threatened with more than a department audit for twenty years.”

“I’m not exactly feeling charitable at the moment,” Q said, taking another sip of his drink, this one slow enough to actually taste.

Bond chuckled and let go of Q’s wrist. “Then let’s not hand the gun to you, shall we?”

Q’s eyes automatically went to the gun. A glance from behind showed that the cylinders he could see were all empty, and he let out a faint sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Alec; he just knew that sometimes his agents were reckless to a fault. But this exercise had been aimed at _him_ , and while they might take stupid chances with one another, they were both very careful with him.

“All right,” he said, leaning past Bond to set his drink on the bartop. “If James were a stranger, I’d assume a shoulder holster, given that he’s still —”

“Don’t assume,” Alec interrupted. “The most common places to carry concealed are shoulder holsters, front waistband, back waistband, and ankle. Check them all.”

Resigned to seeing this idiocy through, Q found the Walther right where he’d expected it, under Bond’s left arm. He drew it carefully, knowing it was loaded, and set it on the end of the bar, out of reach. Then he set both hands to Bond’s body, fingers curving around Bond’s ribs. He was in decadently good shape, and Q dragged his fingers over taut muscles, thinking this would be much more diverting without all the layers of clothing.

The whiskey had spread warmth through Q’s body, easing his tension, and the familiar feel of his agent’s body helped him relax even more. With Bond leaning against the high bartop, Q couldn’t resist running his hands down Bond’s sides all the way to his hips, where his thumbs traced over the curve of his arse, firm under the taut wool of his trousers.

Bond leaned back into the touch, though Q couldn’t tell if he was doing it consciously or not. He turned his head slightly to glance at Q out of the corner of his eye. “Aren’t we forgetting something here?”

“I don’t think so,” Q said, sliding his hands a bit further down.

Alec crowded close to Q’s side and leaned down to quietly say, “His hands. Control the situation.”

When Q hesitated, Bond reached back around with one hand to drum his fingers lightly on Q’s wrist. “Cuffs. Use them to secure the target and free your hands to search.”

Q went back to searching Bond’s pockets, listening for a tell-tale rattle. “How am I supposed to use them if I can’t _find_ them?”

“Right back pocket,” Bond offered. When Q’s hand slid across his arse, he corrected, “Not mine, Q. Alec’s.”

 _Alec_ was carrying them? Alec _hated_ handcuffs ever since he’d spent a week cuffed to a chair with a dislocated shoulder.

“Well?” Alec prompted.

Q huffed. Apparently Alec was over his phobia. “So helpful,” he muttered, turning to Alec. “Stop smirking, you bastard.”

“You’re missing the most fucking adorable expression, James,” Alec said. Still smirking.

“Take a photograph. When he misbehaves, we can post it up on the comm wall in Q Branch.”

“You _really_ want your car impounded, don’t you?” Q asked, giving Bond’s arse a slap before he stepped away.

“Sorry, James. I like the car more than I like you. You’ll just have to imagine it,” Alec told him.

“You both act like an impounded car is some sort of hindrance for me. I stole a frigate from an American Naval base not two years ago. And that was with half the crew still on it.” Bond laughed, a hint of pride in his voice. “Felix actually bought me a pint for that one.”

“You haven’t even earned a cup of bad coffee tonight,” Q warned. He went around behind Alec and found the handcuffs in his back pocket. The chain between the two bracelets was thick and black, hardened against all but the strongest bolt-cutters and saws. “Alec... Did you steal these from Q Branch?”

“I would never admit to stealing anything from Q Branch,” Alec said innocently.

“God, why the hell haven’t you two been deported yet?” Q stepped to the side, trailing his hand over Alec’s body, but froze when he felt something at the small of his back. Curious, he shoved Alec’s shirt up and found _another_ gun, this one a Ruger LCP pistol. _Without_ serial numbers again, Q noted when he drew it. “I’m starting to think I should be frisking _you_. Anything else you’d like to tell me about?”

“What now?” Bond asked.

Alec winced. “Q, that’s —”

“Oh, don’t even try.” Q suspected the pistol was unloaded, but habit made him set down the cuffs so he could drop the magazine. To his surprise, he found it _was_ loaded. “006!” he snapped authoritatively.

“That’s my _actual_ backup,” Alec said guiltily. “I wasn’t about to draw that one on you. Hell, it’s an easier draw than the ankle holster.”

“Sometimes I hate you both.” Q racked the slide back, caught the round, and set everything on the bartop.

“What did I do?” Bond asked, indignantly. “My gun’s legal and right where it was supposed to be!”

“ _My_ Walther is supposed to be checked into _my_ inventory system and not in _your_ bloody shoulder holster,” Q scolded as he picked up the cuffs again. “Hands behind your back.”

“Check his cufflinks,” Alec warned.

Q glared at the back of Bond’s head. “Don’t tell me you’re wearing those bloody cufflinks that are _also_ supposed to be in Q Branch inventory.”

Bond frowned back at Q in mock annoyance. “I thought they were a gift.”

“Weak, James,” Alec said over a muffled laugh.

“There’s a thought,” Q said, hiding a grin. “I’ll always make you sign inventory requisition forms for ‘gifts’. Excellent way to keep track of Christmas and birthdays. Hands, James.”

Bond straightened up and placed his arms behind his back. He linked his thumbs, holding his hands still for Q to lock each cuff in place. Using computers for a living made Q oversensitive to potential wrist damage, so he took care with Bond’s wrists. Thankfully, Bond wasn’t pushing this little security exercise and fighting back. Q was under no illusion that he’d actually be able to hold Bond still long enough to restrain him.

Once the second cuff ratcheted closed and Q had the safety lock engaged, Bond curled his fingers, brushing lightly over Q’s palm. Q twitched at the sensation that sparked up his arm, skin lighting up under the gentle, sensuous touch.

Between the whiskey and the adrenaline crash and the sheer relief that this whole mess had been a test run and not an actual attempted kidnapping or assassination, Q’s thoughts were more than a little fuzzy. He ran his fingertips lightly along Bond’s thumbs and over his fingers and up over the cuffs to the exposed soft underside of his wrists. In the perfect silence of the flat, Q could hear the way Bond’s breathing hitched.

“Perhaps it’s fair that you stole these from me,” Q said, moving up to the cufflink on Bond’s right sleeve. It had a decorative plate on one end and a tiny tab built onto one end of the cross-bar. The cross-bar was hollow, for use as a handcuff key. He took off both cufflinks and tossed them onto the bar. When the folded double cuffs of Bond’s shirt fell open, Q traced the straining tendons with one fingertip.

Bond curled his hand against the cuffs, trying to press into the touch. “And how is it fair, Quartermaster, when you seem to be stealing them right back?”

“I’m just —” was as far as Q got before a thought occurred to him. Bond hadn’t protested the cuffs. He had, in fact, told Q precisely where to find them. Q looked suspiciously from Bond to Alec and demanded, “Was this planned?” He deliberately stepped away from both of them, though a part of him wanted nothing more than to take advantage of Bond’s willing helplessness.

Bond turned his head to look evenly at Q. “Did I plan to end up in cuffs tonight? Not necessarily. But I refuse to take the chance of having you out in the world at anything less than fully prepared.” Bond reached out as best he could to beckon Q back over. “Now, if you’ll kindly step back into place, we can continue this exercise.”

When Q still hesitated, Alec sighed and asked, “Would you rather do this the hard way?”

“What?” Q demanded.

“The weapons search,” Alec clarified, holding up his free hand. His other hand _still_ held the unloaded pistol to Bond’s head. “You need to control the situation, and that means either a weapon — which can be taken from you — or cuffs.”

Taking a deep breath, Q nodded. “Cuffs, then. Put that away,” he said, gesturing at the gun.

Alec stepped back and pocketed the gun. “You’ll have to learn —”

“I know,” Q snapped. Then he shook his head and muttered, “Sorry.”

“Q, look at me.” Bond turned his head slightly and waited for Q to meet his eyes before quietly saying, “You think this isn’t fun. You hate pushy people telling you what to do. I know that. But if bullying you now and pissing you off means I can breathe just a little bit easier later on, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

The damned thing was, Bond was right. An attacker wasn’t going to care if Q had a long day at work or was tired or just wanted a night when he wasn’t living and breathing MI6. He nodded, resigned, and said, “I’m sorry.” He leaned into Bond’s side and gave him a brief, apologetic kiss.

“If it’s any comfort, we learned this in the office gym, with thirty other know-it-alls and not even crap whiskey,” Alec added.

“And probably terrorised your instructors,” Q guessed, leaning over to reach for the bottle. Just because he _shouldn’t_ have another drink didn’t mean he didn’t need one to blunt the edge of the irritation and stress that still clawed at his thoughts.

Bond eyed the whiskey in Q’s hands but didn’t say anything. “We did no such thing. We simply showed them how to take proper hold of a target to both incapacitate and put the target in position to be searched at the same time. Is it my fault if that one bitch broke her finger?”

“You two are a hazard to your coworkers.” Feeling a bit guilty, Q poured barely a splash into his glass. He swallowed and set the glass back down. “What did you say earlier, Alec? Shoulder holsters, checked, so waistband and ankles?”

“That’s a first pat-down,” Alec said, running a hand gently up Q’s back. “Now that he’s a bit more helpless, take your time.”

“I’ve seen your records. I wouldn’t imagine either of you ‘helpless’ even if you were unconscious,” Q said, mimicking Alec’s touch by smoothing his hand up Bond’s spine. the jacket pulled up, revealing Bond’s waistband, belt, and a sliver of his white button-down shirt.

Again, in a move that seemed entirely subconscious, Bond leaned back into the touch. The friction caused Bond’s jacket to ride up even further, just above his wrists. He pressed his hands into his lower back to hold the hem in place. Without turning around, he said, “Now check the waist, hips, and inseam before sliding down and searching my ankles. Keep at least one hand on my arm to feel for an attempted movement.”

Q moved one hand to wrap around Bond’s forearm as much as he could. He rubbed a thumb against muscles made taut by the strain of Bond’s position. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to take off your jacket first?”

“Probably,” Alec answered. “Want a knife to cut it off?”

Q froze, thinking that might well be a brilliant idea. He’d never even considered it — up until that very moment, he’d made it a point that Alec and Bond were to _completely_ disarm before coming anywhere near the bed, couch, or, on one memorable occasion, the recliner.

Bond cleared his throat, snapping Q out of his train of thought. “You do realise how much this suit costs, right?”

“It’d serve you right for ambushing me. We _could_ have been half-naked on the couch watching a movie at this very moment,” Q pointed out, running his free hand across the back of Bond’s waistband.

“The sooner you let us teach you, the sooner we will be.” Bond reached out to take hold of Q’s hand. “Now focus, Q.”

Before Q could answer, Alec crowded behind him, gently taking hold of his shoulders. “You always want to be aware of your target’s hands,” he said in a voice that had no right to be that sensual. “Now you’re trapped. Do you know how to get free?”

“Other than by threatening to cut him out of his clothing?” Q countered, deliberately moving his other hand from Bond’s arm to his hip. He let his fingers slip into Bond’s pocket, where he wasn’t surprised to discover Bond was carrying a knife.

Bond growled under his breath and his grip tightened around Q’s other wrist. “Be nice, Q. Most targets won’t be wearing bespoke and won’t care about your idle threats — and they’d better be idle. I suggest learning to frisk while your target has his clothes _on_.”

“That’s not fun. How is that fun?” Alec asked, leaning down to brush his lips against Q’s ear. “I’d let you cut me out of my clothes.”

Q reached a bit deeper into Bond’s pocket so he could take hold of the knife. “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, sliding the knife out. Before either of them could complain that he was getting distracted, he set the handle of the knife, blade still safely folded away, against Bond’s wrist, just above the handcuff. “Other than with a convenient knife, how do I break his hold?” he asked, pulling the cross-hatched grip over Bond’s soft skin.

Q almost missed the way Bond’s breath stuttered at the drag of hard plastic. Curious, Q drew the grip back the other way, watching Bond’s fingers twitch, though he didn’t release his hold on Q.

When Bond finally spoke, his voice was more than just a little strained. “You seem to be conveniently forgetting that, while not everyone will have a knife, you have two hands. Only one of which I’m presently holding.”

With a thoughtful hum, Q slid the hard grip of the knife away from Bond’s wrist and down to his hip. “True,” he said, finally starting to relax. Bond’s grip on his wrist was solid but gentle. Alec still held his shoulders. His agents were familiar and safe and calming, as long as guns and fire weren’t involved. Even the knife wasn’t a point of stress, since it was in Q’s hand and not in the hands of a bored agent eyeing the wall as a potential target.

So he leaned back against Alec’s chest and turned the knife in his fingers to reach those last couple of inches in front of Bond. A sharp hiss of breath told him he’d found his target, and he ran the flat grip up over Bond’s flies.

Instead of releasing Q’s wrist, Bond tightened his hold and pushed his hips forward against the knife. As Q continued up towards his abdomen, Bond eased off and stepped back into Q. With the little movement he had, Bond reached out with his free hand to lightly drag his fingertips up what he could reach of Q’s trousers, mimicking him.

Q dropped the knife on the bartop. He let his head fall back against Alec’s shoulder and pushed against the awkward, straining touch. “James,” he said softly.

“Are we getting distracted?” Alec asked, crowding Q even closer to Bond’s body, until they were pressed together.

Bond hummed as he finally released Q’s wrist so he could use both hands to lightly caress at Q’s half-hard cock. “I wouldn’t be a good instructor if I didn’t aim for _some_ distraction.” Bond began to palm Q through his trousers. “After all, we can’t expect every target to be easy and compliant, now, can we?”

“Or we could just figure out a way to tie you to the bar,” Q suggested, running his hands up Bond’s arms again, just for the pleasure of feeling the movement of his muscles. He really was in unfairly good shape, considering how badly he abused his body. And he was too fucking persistent; he knew exactly how to touch Q and completely scramble his thoughts.

“Weapons check first. Bondage after,” Alec said, ducking his head to bite at the side of Q’s neck. “Start over. Check everywhere a field agent might carry a concealed weapon.”

“We’ll be here all bloody night,” Q said, though he obediently reached up to slide his fingertips over Bond’s nape and under his shirt collar.

“Q?” Bond turned his head to catch Q out of the corner of his eye, never letting up on his attention to Q’s cock. “You never did finish your large scale search. Remember, always start with the obvious areas,” he stated as he pressed further back so he could caress Q’s balls.

“Oh, fuck,” Q whispered, dragging his hand up into Bond’s hair. He pushed his hips forward, biting back a whimper as his cock slid against Bond’s hands.

Alec laughed, breath warm against Q’s skin. “Focus,” he scolded.

“ _You_ bloody well focus,” Q complained. “He’s cheating.” He gave Bond’s hair a tug, though he didn’t know if he wanted Bond to stop or to keep going.

“You’re only now noticing? He cheats, he lies, he steals anything not nailed down. And those are his good qualities.”

Bond snorted. “Those are my best qualities.”

Alec laughed and reached out to take hold of Q’s other hand. He guided it back down to Bond’s side, over his shoulder holster. “We won’t be able to move things along until you’ve searched him. If he cheats again, just threaten the suit. He’s a bloody clothes-horse.”

“At least one of you looks acceptable to take out in public,” Q said, giving the holster a cursory search. “You, I can hardly take out to a dark alley without scaring off the locals.”

“See, Alec? I always told you he liked me better than you.” To prove his point, Bond rolled his fingertips along Q’s balls before dragging them up the length of Q’s cock.

Q groaned and said, “I _might_ be feeling a bit more charitable towards you, James.”

“Cheating bastard.” Alec leaned in and exhaled, soft and hot, over Q’s ear before whispering, “You’re in control here, Q. Don’t let him take that from you.”

Q’s laugh was shaky. “Easy for you to say,” he muttered, vaguely remembering that there was a purpose to all of this. He got his other hand between Bond’s right arm and his ribs and felt forwards, over the two magazine clips on his holster.

Then he felt something that shouldn’t have been there. With Bond’s hands bound behind his back, it took a bit of fighting to tug the jacket aside so Q could properly reach the holster, where he found another thin folding knife concealed between the two pockets meant to hold spare magazines for the Walther.

“You modified my holster!” he accused.

“This is news? I modified the last three you’ve given me,” Bond pointed out, surprised. “In fact, you may want to consider taking my modifications into account, considering how often I need that knife and how effective it is having it right there.”

“If you _tell_ me these things, I can design them in,” Q said, figuring out the clever catch holding the knife in place. It felt like it had been jury rigged with a paperclip and a bit of elastic. He put down the second knife beside the first.

“See? _Ungrateful_ cheating bastard,” Alec said encouragingly.

“You say I’m ungrateful, but I’m the one who currently has my hand on his dick.” Bond said  before he tightened his grip again on Q’s cock. Q shivered at the touch, making Bond laugh, devilishly low.

Alec huffed, stirring Q’s hair, and softly asked, “What would you rather have? His hand or my mouth?”

“Oh, fuck,” Q muttered, wondering just how much control he actually had here. Careful not to move away from Bond’s touch, Q twisted around enough so he could reach for Alec’s hair to pull him down for a kiss.

“Distracted again, Q? You know, there is very little he can do with his mouth that I can’t do with my hand.” Bond purred as he released his grasp on Q to drag a hard finger from the back of Q’s balls to the tip of his cock.

“Or you could just fuck him,” Alec suggested, speaking softly into Q’s ear. “The back of the couch is a perfect height. You wouldn’t even need to undress him.” He nipped Q’s ear and reached past Q to put a hand on Bond’s shoulder, pulling him back. His fingers moved up to Bond’s throat, tipping his head back. “How does that sound to you, James?”

“Aren’t we supposed to be teaching him how to disarm an attacker?” Bond chided, even as his breathing picked up. “There are all sorts of dangerous things I could still be hiding, just waiting to be discovered.”

“What do you think, Q?” Alec asked, forcing Bond’s head back a bit more, until it rested against Q’s shoulder.

“The safest course would be to keep searching,” Q said a bit dazedly. He always felt two steps behind his agents, as if he were constantly being challenged to keep up with them. He had no idea why he’d never thought of bondage before; probably because his agents were constantly getting themselves captured and tied up, only to break free at the last moment. But with Alec’s support and encouragement and with Bond’s willing participation, the possibilities now seemed limitless.

Alec dropped his hand from Bond’s throat with a soft touch that made Bond shudder back against Q. “Go right ahead,” Alec said, turning to kiss Q’s cheek before he stepped back, letting his hands rest lightly on Q’s hips.

Q swallowed, thinking he’d either had too much whiskey or not enough for this. “James?” he asked a bit nervously.

Bond tilted his head back to sink his teeth into the underside of Q’s jaw. Q closed his eyes, and a faint sound escaped him before Bond slowly released the bite, whispering, “Search away.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Bond and Alec had devised their original plan to attack Q, they’d decided that, if it came down to restraints, Bond should be the one who ended up cuffed. While Bond wasn’t a fan of being restrained, his reaction to the wrong touch wouldn’t be nearly as severe as Alec’s.

Bond had experimented with bondage a few times with past lovers, including with Alec, but he’d never really enjoyed it until now. With Q.

To date, Q had been a caring, enthusiastic lover, but strictly in a vanilla sense — or as vanilla as he could get in a relationship with not one but two men. He’d never hinted at wanting anything kinkier than a bit of rough handling.

Bond couldn’t help but smile at the irony: The first thing Q had shown interest in was the one thing Bond normally would prefer to do without. Maybe they were a better match than he originally thought. He did always love a good challenge.

Q’s touch was light and tentative and gentle, which probably helped soothe Bond’s reflexes. Cool, familiar fingers brushed over Bond’s nape and into his hair before slipping forward over his pulse to the front of his throat. Q’s body pressed close as his hands swept down over Bond’s chest, fingertips under the tie Bond still wore. When Bond’s fingers twitched against Q’s erection, Q let out a shaky breath.

“Distracting,” Q accused in a whisper as his fingers teased between Bond’s shirt buttons, finding bare skin.

Bond shifted slightly in an attempt to give Q’s soft, unscarred fingertips more access. He secretly loved the fact that Q seemed to revere _his_ scars. The way he ran his hands along Bond’s skin, tracing them, proved it each and every time.

Bond sighed and closed his eyes to concentrate on the touch. “If you would like me to be docile and compliant, you’re going to have to try a bit harder than that,” he lied, noting how ragged his voice had become. He knew they were supposed to be teaching Q, but right now, with Q pressed into Bond and Alec pressed into Q, Bond really couldn’t care less.

“Shh,” Q whispered in his ear, continuing to stroke over Bond’s chest. He undid a single button over Bond’s sternum to let him reach further under the shirt, until his fingertips brushed over Bond’s nipple. As Bond’s nipple went hard, Q groaned quietly and bowed his head over Bond’s shoulder. Long, soft hair caught on Bond’s stubble, and Q all but purred as Alec did something — kissing at Q’s nape, Bond guessed a moment later, when Alec nudged against the back of Bond’s head.

“Don’t stop,” Alec said in a voice just as rough as Bond’s.

Q sighed and ran both hands up to Bond’s shoulders. “Will your jacket be ruined if I take it off?” he asked, taking the opportunity to kiss Bond’s ear.

“As long as you don’t shred it, my tailor can fix anything,” Bond said, refusing to think about just how depressingly true that statement was.

Gently, Q eased the jacket back over Bond’s shoulders and let it slide down his arms until the fabric draped over his hands. Q ducked and rubbed his face against Bond’s shoulder before kissing him through the fine fabric of his shirt. “God, you’re gorgeous. No one else gets to see you like this,” he said as his hands traced over the shoulder holster.

Bond wanted nothing more at that moment than to have Q in his arms. He wanted to turn around and envelop him, all the while pressing Q into Alec. Instead, he reached back towards Q’s cock again, disappointed at the extra material now separating them. Maybe cutting him out of his clothes wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Q didn’t have to look to know how to remove the shoulder holster. He didn’t go for the adjustment straps on the back — straps that Bond had spent hours getting just right. Instead, he unsnapped the belt loop on the right side and eased the holster back down Bond’s arms.

“What would you search for next?” Alec asked.

Q took a deep breath, wrapping his hands around Bond’s forearms. “Knives. Throwing spikes. Darts.”

“Good. Start at his shoulders.”

With a contented hum, Q ran his hands back up, tracing the contours of Bond’s muscles. “I could touch you for hours,” he said softly, letting his fingertips skim over Bond’s collarbones.

Bond leaned back against Q, trying to fight the cuffs and free even one hand so he could touch, but the wool was too tangled up with the holster straps. When he pushed his hands back, Q groaned, but all Bond felt was the subtle pressure of Q’s body through the thick layers of fabric. Bond’s pulse picked up as if his body wanted to respond to the fear of being helpless, but couldn’t manage. Q and Alec were safety. Alec was the one person in the field he could implicitly trust at his back, and Q was Bond’s lifeline, the voice that always brought him home. Just having them nearby kept Bond calm enough to push through his instinctive reaction, reminding himself that he was safe.

Q started working at Bond’s tie, only to go abruptly still. His breath hitched into a soft groan and his head fell back. “Alec.”

With a wicked laugh that meant trouble, Alec said, “Concentrate, Quartermaster.”

“God, I hate you,” Q lied breathlessly as he went back to fumbling with Bond’s tie.

Bond grinned, allowing Alec’s presence to help drive out the last bit of anxiety at his helplessness. He’d trusted Alec to put a gun to his head; he could trust Alec in this, too.

Then he felt movement against the jacket balled up around his hands, followed by the familiar touch of Alec’s fingers, rough and callused. Alec tapped his hand once — a silent, barely-there signal asking if Bond was all right. Reassured, Bond closed his eyes and tapped back, also once. He was fine.

As Q finally worked the tie free, he ran a hand up Bond’s throat to tilt his head back. The angle was awkward, and he could feel the strain in his shoulders, so he focused on Q’s hands to keep the tension at bay. Q pressed kisses to Bond’s jaw as he released the top button of Bond’s shirt. His fingers found the hollow of Bond’s throat, a soft brush that made Bond shudder.

“Keep going,” Alec said quietly. He moved his hand from Bond’s fingers to his forearm, with only the thin fabric of Bond’s sleeve separating them. “Under-the-shirt holsters —”

“I know,” Q interrupted, ducking his head to nuzzle at Bond’s neck. He undid two more buttons before he started kissing, lingering and hot, over Bond’s pulse. “It’s nice,” he muttered against Bond’s skin, “not having you trying to take control.”

"You know, I have to be honest," Bond started as he turned his head to give Q's mouth better access. "It's nice not having to _be_ in control."

And it really was. With Alec's hands on him, and Q pressed up against him, he'd never felt more comfortable letting go before. He twisted his arm to invite Alec to take a stronger hold on him.

Alec’s fingers tightened before he stepped to the side. “Q. Go around front,” he said roughly.

Q hummed in assent and slipped out from between Bond and Alec. He pushed between Bond and the bar, touching him the whole time, and wrapped a hand around his nape to pull him in for a kiss that stole Bond’s breath. Alec pressed close behind, holding Bond’s arms, and lowered his head to bite Bond’s shoulder through his shirt, making Bond gasp at the feel of teeth on his skin.

The need to take control started to creep back into his mind. He bit Q’s lip hard and tugged, enjoying the whimper that escaped him. Alec’s own bite tightened as if in warning. Bond knew he had to release Q, but it was more difficult than he’d expected. He took a steadying breath and slowly let go, licking Q’s lip as he did.

Q stared at Bond, eyes blown dark. He pulled off his glasses and dropped them onto the bartop before attacking Bond’s shirt buttons, ducking low to kiss and lick over Bond’s chest.

Quietly, Alec whispered into Bond’s ear, “Fuck. Look at him.” His hands went tight on Bond’s arms, pulling back a bit more to open the shirt for Q.

Bond looked down at Q appreciatively. "He's gorgeous," he said, tilting his head. Alec pressed in to lick the shell of Bond's ear, causing his breath to stutter.

As Q undid the last button, he looked up with a small, sly smile. He pushed the shirt over Bond’s shoulders and slid one arm around Bond’s waist. With his free hand, he reached past Bond to pull Alec close.

“We could have just started with this, rather than the whole” — Q shrugged dismissively — “ambushing thing.”

“It’s working out well enough so far,” Alec said. Bond couldn’t see him, but he heard the smile in Alec’s voice. “Only halfway done with your search.”

Q looked down Bond’s body, and his smile turned avaricious. He lifted a hand to drag his fingertips down Bond’s bare chest and quietly asked, “May I, James?”

Bond laughed, low and uninhibited. “Would you normally ask an attacker permission to search?” Deliberately, he canted his hips forward, pressing against Q’s hardening cock. When Q gasped, Bond’s smile turned positively filthy. “It’s about controlling the situation, Q. You have control. Use it.”

“I don’t —” Q cut himself off and looked down. “I can’t look at you as an enemy. I can’t even pretend.”

Alec’s grasp on Bond’s arms relaxed. He leaned in and softly said, “He’s not one of us, James.”

“I know that,” he told Alec. Q was no innocent — no one at MI6 was — but he was no field agent, either. He still had the connection to his compassion, a connection Alec and Bond had long since been forced to sever almost completely. Only with Q and each other did they allow themselves that vulnerability.

“Q, look at me.” Bond waited for Q to lift his head, catching his eye. “We _aren’t_ the enemy, nor do we ever wish to be. But you need to learn to control the situation when there _isn’t_ a computer in front of you. If you can’t do that with the people you trust, how will you manage with people you don’t?”

When the uncertainty still didn’t leave Q’s eyes, Bond did the only thing he was capable of in his current state: He closed the distance between himself and Q, pulling Alec with him, to capture Q’s mouth in a demanding kiss. Caught off guard, Q gave in to the kiss as if pushing away his doubts.

As the kiss ended, Q slid his hand up into Alec’s hair and pressed his fingers tightly against Bond’s waist. “All right,” Q said softly. “All right. But you can stop this. All right?”

This wasn’t about irritation at the lesson at all, Bond realised. This was about consent. Q knew full well that no field agent liked being helpless even in the safest of circumstances. And this was Q’s first time with them that involved anything more than rough sex.

“If it feels like this is going too far, I’ll tell you to stop. Right now, though, I’m just fine.”

“What he means is, don’t stop,” Alec clarified.

Bond smirked and lifted his cuffed hands so he could press his arse back against Alec’s cock. He had the distinct pleasure of hearing Alec gasp again. “Not unless you want me and Alec to continue alone and show you how it’s done.”

“Q,” Alec said in a low growl. “One of us is fucking him.”

Wide-eyed and flushed, Q nodded, glancing from Bond to Alec and back. “All right. God, all right. Can we — Maybe if we take off the cuffs, just to take off your jacket?” he suggested to Bond. “So you’re more comfortable?”

Bond couldn’t help the frustrated huff that escaped him. “I’m comfortable now,” he said as reassuringly as he could — which wasn’t very. “If you undo these cuffs, I may not let you put them back on, which means we _will be_ repeating this exercise at a later date.” He leaned forward, getting close enough to taste Q’s breath on his lips. “My advice? Listen to Alec.”

Alec laughed, clenching his fists tightly enough to leave bruises. “For once, he gets it right,” he murmured over Bond’s shoulder. “You’re halfway done, Q. Don’t cock this up now.”

Q huffed and bowed his head, leaning against Bond’s chest. “I’m sorry.” He ran his hands down Bond’s chest and dipped his fingers into Bond’s waistband, but this time, he went for the belt buckle.

Before he could undo it, Alec said, “Weapons check first. Front, back, hips, down each leg.”

With a quiet sigh, Q sank to the floor, knees splayed to either side of Bond’s feet. He stared up at Bond through his fringe as he ran his hands up Bond’s thighs. Bond’s trousers went tighter over his cock as Q moved his fingers over Bond’s hips. “I almost feel guilty, taking the excuse to touch you,” he said, palming Bond’s cock with just the right pressure to drive away the lingering irritation at how things had stalled.

Bond rested his head back onto Alec’s shoulder while he tried not to thrust up against Q again. As Q’s hand slid between Bond’s thighs to check his inseam, Bond let out a stuttering groan under his breath. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his self-control. If Q kept touching him like that, he wasn’t going to last long before he demanded to be stripped and fucked over whatever surface was most handy.

Possibly sensing how close Bond was creeping towards the edge, Alec’s hands tightened around Bond’s forearms. “Don’t rush him,” Alec warned quietly. He shifted his weight and nudged one foot between Bond’s, pushing his legs apart. “We can drag this out all night,” he threatened.

Bond tried to turn his head enough to look at Alec and smirked. “Promise?” he teased, curling his fingers against the fabric bunched up over his cuffs.

Q laughed softly, fingers curling around Bond’s thighs. “Shoes first?” he asked, looking up to meet Alec’s eyes.

Alec growled in assent and wrapped an arm around Bond’s body, helping balance him. As Q reached for one shoe, Alec said, “Now he’s thinking ahead. Lesson learned?”

“Not quite yet.” As Bond lifted his foot to allow Q to take off his shoe, he finally freed his fingers. The first touch against Alec’s hard cock drew a stuttered gasp.

“Fucking hell, James,” Alec said, lapsing into Russian. He deliberately pushed against Bond’s fingers, nearly tripping them all up as Q went for the other shoe. When Q protested, Alec went still. He let out a ragged breath and rested his head on Bond’s shoulder.

“Should I stop?” Q asked, looking up uncertainly.

 _“Nyet,”_ Alec said abruptly, arm going tight around Bond’s waist.

Bond’s eyes travelled down over Q, taking in everything from his rumpled hair to his beautifully flushed skin to how he gently held Bond’s leg, waiting. After a moment, Bond finally leaned back against Alec again, feeling stubble brush against his cheek where Alec hadn’t shaved. “You should only stop when you are _certain_ there isn’t a single weapon left on me,” he breathed. “And possibly not even then.”

Q exhaled shakily and looked down, dropping his hands to Bond’s right ankle. He slid his fingers up under the cuff of his trousers, pausing when he found the knife sheathed to Bond’s calf over his sock.

Smiling slowly, Q pushed the fabric up to reveal the knife. “Now you’re tempting me to cut you out of your clothes again,” he said, digging blunt nails under the velcro straps. When the top strap came loose, the sheathed knife fell down to Bond’s ankle; Q opened the other strap and pulled the knife free.

“Let’s not distract him with damage to his wardrobe,” Alec said teasingly before he turned to bite Bond’s throat. Bond tipped his head to the side to give Alec more access.

With a quiet laugh, Q set the knife on the floor and felt over Bond’s left calf. “Socks next, if that’s all right?”

“Steady,” Alec said, holding Bond tightly against his chest. “Go ahead, Q.”

Bond shifted his weight, allowing Q to take off each sock, trusting Alec to help keep him balanced. When Q had tossed both socks aside, he slid his hands back up over Bond’s trousers to his belt. “Now?”

Bond looked back down to see where Q had placed the knife. “Q, put the knife on the bar with the rest of the weapons,” he said, trying to at least pretend they were still working. “Always make sure what you collect is in one place. That way you’ll know if something goes missing.”

Q reached for the knife, not-so-accidentally brushing his face against Bond’s thigh. Then he knelt upright, looking up into Bond’s eyes as he reached up to offer the knife to Alec. “Would you mind?” he asked softly before pressing his lips to Bond’s abdomen, just above his belt buckle.

“Cheating,” Alec accused, though he reached down to take the knife.

“Hush. He’s busy,” Bond scolded as he watched Q kiss a line across his skin just at the edge of his trousers.

“Mmm, very busy,” Q agreed, tugging at Bond’s belt. As soon as it was free, he fumbled the waistband clasp open and then licked at the exposed skin. He pressed his hand over Bond’s flies, fingers curled against his cock, and slid up to find the zip. He drew it down slowly, whispering, “Very, very busy.”

Alec laughed. “He’s fun when he lets go. We should get you in handcuffs more often, James,” he said, over the faint, familiar _click_ of the knife being unsheathed. Alec tossed the sheath and straps onto the bar — without the knife. Bond tensed and reflexively tried to twist free until he felt Q pull away in surprise.

“James?” Q asked.

Bond shook his head, still hyper-aware of the knife in Alec’s hand. Trying to quash his instinct to fight, he looked down and met Q’s eyes. “Keep going,” he said roughly.

Reassured, Q went back to unzipping Bond’s flies, his fingers gentle and slow. “Happily,” he murmured.

Settling himself back up against Alec’s chest, Bond closed his eyes and turned to brush his lips along Alec’s jaw. “Any plans for that knife, Alec?”

A sharp touch, centred between his shoulderblades, silenced him. “Keeping you focused,” Alec whispered into Bond’s ear as he dragged the knife up, pushing just hard enough to scratch a stinging line up to Bond’s nape.

Bond hissed as his senses came to life. Not wanting Alec to stop, he tilted his head forward just enough for Alec to drag the knife up against the base of his scalp and back down again before he pulled the blade away. Allowing the stinging sensation to wash over and centre him, Bond opened his eyes to see Q hadn’t looked up. He probably had no idea that Alec even had the knife out of its sheath.

Once Bond’s trousers were pooled around his ankles, Q knelt up and mouthed over Bond’s cock, breathing hotly through his pants. Bond rutted against Q’s mouth, all thoughts of the knife at his back completely driven from his mind. He desperately wanted to grab Q by the hair and hold him in place. It wasn’t until he felt his wrists start to burn that he realised he was tugging at the cuffs again.

Then Alec released his grasp on Bond’s waist to catch him by the hair. He pulled back sharply, arching Bond’s back to push him against Q’s mouth. “Careful, James,” Alec warned, pressing the flat of the blade up under Bond’s jaw to tip his head even further back.

Every breath Bond took, he could feel the edge of the blade at his throat. The conflicting signals between the knife and Q’s mouth and Alec’s presence at his back threatened to drag his overtrained mind into chaos. “Talk to me, Alec,” Bond whispered. “Don’t stop, but _please_ talk to me.”

“He wants you, James,” Alec said as Q licked up Bond’s cock, slow and hard, tongue hot through the fabric of his pants. Alec twitched the knife up against Bond’s throat. “Could you hold still for him? How deep do you think he could take you, if you didn’t move?”

“Oh, god,” Bond groaned. “Pants, Q. Now.”

Q took a deep breath and nodded. His nails scratched over Bond’s abdomen as he pulled the waistband away from Bond’s skin and over his cock. Alec twitched the knife, turning the flat side against Bond’s throat to hold him still. “Careful,” Alec warned as Q shoved the pants to Bond’s ankles.

Before Bond could think of a single word, Q kissed up Bond’s thigh, hair tickling over Bond’s cock. “James,” he whispered, mouthing across Bond’s hip, stopping only when he licked at Bond’s cock. Then he looked up, and as he saw the blade, his eyes went wide. “Alec?” he asked sharply.

“It’s all right, Q,” Alec said, easing the knife’s pressure. “Don’t stop. James is going to hold still for you. It was his idea. Wasn’t it, James?”

“My idea?” Bond asked roughly.

“It’s a _bad_ idea, so of course it was yours,” Alec said in a reasonable tone.

Bond snorted, feeling even more at ease. “Please, my ideas are bloody perfect. I’m the one who told Q where to find the cuffs.” He turned to glare at Alec, but it was lost under the little smile he couldn’t hide. “ _You_ didn’t think of that.” He looked back down at Q. “Keep going.”

Q rested a hand on Bond’s hip, staring up into his eyes. “You trust him. _Us_.” He nuzzled at Bond’s hip, holding tight to his leg, and then turned to kiss him again.

“Yes,” he answered honestly. “I do.” As Q began to lick up the side of his thigh near his cock, Bond closed his eyes again, surrendering to the feeling of Q’s hot, familiar mouth on his skin.

With a quiet groan, Q closed his lips around Bond’s cock. He cupped his hands under Bond’s balls as he licked and sucked down, and Alec pulled with the knife, tipping Bond’s head back. Q pushed down further, until Bond’s cock nudged the back of his throat.

“Let him have you, James,” Alec said, running his hand down Bond’s chest to hold him close.

Bond worked to remain as still as possible, keenly aware that there was still a knife pressed to his throat. But that didn’t stop him from wanting — from _needing_. “And you, Alec?” he asked, his voice ragged. “What will you have?”

Alec’s breath caught. “What can I have?” he asked, his words almost lost under the rush of pleasure as Q drew back, tongue pressing hard against the underside of Bond’s cock.

“You — You know what you can have,” Bond stuttered, struggling to focus. He and Alec had enjoyed sex together as a part of their friendship for years, though since Q had come into their lives, they’d turned their attention to him. Now, Bond wanted both Q and Alec for himself. “Just fucking take it already.”

“Q. Stay with him,” Alec said, pulling the knife away from Bond’s throat. He stepped back, bracing Bond with a hand on his shoulder until he had his balance. Then he was gone, long strides taking him out of the room.

Without Alec to support him, Bond took a step back, freeing himself from the clothing trapped around his ankles. Q followed, wrapping his hands around Bond’s thighs. Then he ducked his head again and closed his eyes, slowly taking Bond deep into his mouth. He lightly dragged his teeth along Bond’s shaft and swirled his tongue around the tip, before taking him back down again, deep, wet and warm.

Growing dizzy from the pleasure, Bond didn’t know how much more of this he could take. “Q. Stop.”

Q pulled back and let his hand fall from Bond’s thighs. He gave Bond a wide-eyed stare and asked, “James?”

“Just for a moment, please.”

Q rose unsteadily, taking deep breaths. He was still dressed, which seemed wholly unfair. He stepped closer to put his hands on Bond’s arms. “Sorry. I just —” He licked his lips, looking down at Bond’s body. “You’re so perfect, James.” He took one more step, clothes rasping over Bond’s skin, and leaned in to touch his lips to Bond’s. “I want you. I want you so much.”

“God, Q.” Bond leaned in to capture Q’s mouth for a deeper kiss. When Q’s lips parted, Bond swept his tongue in to taste him, a hint of whiskey still present. It was messy and a little uncoordinated, with Bond’s hands bound and Q being a little bit drunk. Bond broke off to smile adoringly at Q. “I want you, too — God, do I want you. But it seems your clothes might be getting in the way.”

Q laughed and kissed Bond again, releasing Bond’s arms to start fumbling with his own clothing. He kicked off his shoes, hopped from one foot to the other to get rid of his socks, and then carelessly dropped his jacket on the floor. His shirt followed, with at least one button torn off to fly free. Without bothering with his trousers, he wrapped his arms around Bond and pressed in close for another kiss, desperate and breathless.

Instinctively, Bond pulled against the cuffs, needing Q even closer. Some distant part of his mind reminded him that the lesson wasn’t over, but he couldn’t be arsed to care — not with Q pressing against him, kissing him until they were both breathless. They could get back to the lesson later. Or tomorrow. Whenever they were done fucking.


	3. Chapter 3

Whether it was a mission, training, or seduction, plans never worked out as expected. Alec felt no regrets and no guilt about how they’d gone so far off track.

Well, maybe a _hint_ of guilt that Bond had been the one to end up in cuffs, but Alec went cold inside every time he so much as heard the ratchet sound. The thought of _wearing_ them...

But Bond was fine with it, and Q seemed absolutely thrilled with the opportunity to have free rein, even if he did keep stopping to check on Bond every few minutes. Because of that caution, Alec knew Q wouldn’t end up triggering Bond’s overtrained combat reflexes, so he felt safe in leaving the room.

They _really_ needed to start keeping lube somewhere in the living room, and to hell with what the maid might think. Three blokes not just living together but also sharing a bedroom made it obvious that they weren’t just flatmates, after all. For now, though, Alec took the opportunity to strip off his clothes and the rest of his weapons on the way to the nearest bedside table.

He found a half-empty bottle of lube under a tangle of smartphone charging cables. There was still a box of condoms at the back of the drawer, no longer necessary thanks to Medical’s incessant need to draw blood every time an agent came within reach. Alec took the bottle, closed the drawer, and went back out to the living room, hoping that Bond had coaxed Q into undressing.

He had, though only halfway, and Alec stopped in the doorway to admire the sight. Bond was the one cuffed and essentially helpless, but it seemed Q was entirely at his mercy. He’d removed everything but his trousers. His arms were wrapped around Bond’s shoulders, drawing out the line of his body as he writhed against Bond, lost in their kiss.

Slowly, so as not to startle either of them, Alec crossed the room and slid between Q and the bar. He pressed against Q’s back and slid one arm around his body, shivering a bit at the touch of Q’s chilled skin. He felt Bond tense against his hand, and the kiss broke.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Alec invited, working to unbuckle Q’s belt one-handed.

Q slid one hand to Bond’s nape and moved the other back to Alec’s hip. He tipped his head back to kiss Alec’s jaw, complaining, “You undressed. I could have helped.”

“You didn’t even manage to get yourself undressed,” Alec scolded. Deliberately, as he unzipped Q’s flies, he pressed the back of his hand against Bond’s cock, loving the way Bond hissed in a breath. “You’re both too easily distracted.”

Q huffed and pulled Bond into his arms again. “I have good reason,” he muttered before he started kissing the side of Bond’s throat.

Tilting his head to one side, Bond practically purred in satisfaction. He canted his hips forward to press up against Alec’s hand, stalling Alec’s efforts to undress Q. Alec couldn’t resist the temptation to turn his hand, dragging his fingers over Bond’s hard length, remembering just the right touch to crack Bond’s self-control.

Bond’s breath hitched, though he forced out a rough laugh and said, “I’m sorry. What were you saying about easy distractions?”

Over Q’s laugh, Alec said, “Bastard,” and decided a little cheating of his own would be in order. He moved his hand away from Bond’s cock and against Q’s instead, curving his fingers around before he dragged lightly up. With a high, breathy cry, Q went boneless, head falling back against Alec’s shoulder. Q was right on the edge and still in his damned trousers, and Alec was so very, very tempted to push him over.

But he stayed focused and instead nuzzled at Q’s neck until his head tipped aside enough for Alec to bite. He slid his hand down over Q’s balls, pushing Q’s trousers down another inch with a light, teasing touch.

“Alec,” Q said, voice breaking. Alec released the bite and grinned at Bond.

Bond returned the grin, a feral edge playing at the corners of this mouth. “You know, Alec, he’s already threatened to kill both of us tonight. If you make him come before he’s even had the _chance_ to fuck one of us, I’m not so sure he won’t make good on that threat.”

“I may kill you both anyway, just for taking so bloody long,” Q snapped.

Alec laughed and let go so he could put down the lube and help Q get out of his trousers. A careful push to Q’s head encouraged him to go back to kissing Bond with captivating urgency. Q kicked to free his feet from his clothes while Alec ran his hands up the backs of Q’s legs, sliding his fingertips up under the hem of Q’s pants. Q pushed back against the touch and whimpered when Alec’s hands moved around to tease at the soft hair at the base of his cock.

“James.” Alec stood, dragging his hands up to tug at Q’s waistband. As he eased Q’s pants down, he said, “Look what you’ve done to him. You can’t leave him like this.”

Bond stopped kissing and leaned back enough to watch Alec slide Q’s pants down his legs. As the fabric fell to the floor, Bond’s eyes slowly travelled back up, stopping at Q’s impressively hard erection. Instead of saying anything, though, he just stared, his focus more intense and his breath more laboured with each passing moment. Clumsily, Q kicked his clothes out of the way and wrapped his arms around Bond’s shoulders, pulling him into a desperate, needy kiss.

Unwilling to let the night end prematurely, Alec forced himself to let go of Q and step to one side. “Move back, Q,” he said, using one hand to guide Q back two steps, until he was leaning against the bar. Bond followed, crowding close to Q’s body, unwilling to break the kiss for even a moment.

For one brief yet endless moment, Alec watched, entranced by Q’s unrestrained desire. They were gorgeous together, but Alec wanted more. He ran his hands down their backs, feeling the contrast between soft skin and scars, hard muscles and fine bones.

When he reached the fabric bunched around Bond’s cuffed hands, he pushed gently and leaned in close to Bond’s ear. “One of us is going down on him, James. Either you do it or get out of the way so I can.”

Bond broke the kiss to turn and glare at Alec. “Like hell you will. He’s mine,” he growled. He took a step back and lowered himself to one knee, then the other. He knelt up to nuzzle against Q’s cock before turning to lick a stripe up the side of his shaft.

“Oh, god,” Q groaned, catching at the bar with one hand. He stroked his other hand over Bond’s hair, fingers twitching as if he wanted to grab.

Bond slid his tongue down to the base of Q’s cock to kiss and lick his way back up before he fully took Q in his mouth. Q’s breath hitched, and his fingers went tight in Bond’s hair before he forced himself to let go. “James,” he whispered, letting his head fall back, baring his throat.

Before Alec could get lost in just watching, he made himself turn away. He retrieved the lube from where he’d set it down and knelt down behind Bond. He pushed Bond’s jacket to one side and brushed a finger down his spine, to his entrance. “Still want me inside you?” he asked softly.

Bond twitched at the feel of Alec’s finger and moved back slightly, as though chasing that brief touch. He didn’t stop what he was doing; he simply hummed an affirmative, making Q whimper and squirm at the sensation.

Alec looked up at Q, feeling his self-control starting to fray. He got the bottle open and spilled a puddle over his hand and onto the floor. He closed the bottle cap, tossed the bottle aside, and leaned in close to Bond, teasing his finger over Bond’s entrance.

“Do you think he knows what we’re doing?” he whispered in Bond’s ear as he pushed his fingertip inside. “Look at him, James. He’s lost. He’s completely yours.”

Bond groaned in response, still refusing to stop to answer Alec. He tilted his head up to see Q leaning against the bar, his hands gripped tight to edge of the bartop, eyes closed tightly.

“Think he’ll let us do this to him, next time?” Alec asked, working his finger into Bond’s body, just past the first knuckle. He went slowly, teasing Bond by drawing back out, only to push a little deeper. “How long do you think he’d last?”

Bond shuddered deliciously at Alec’s touch. Breathing hard, he pulled back off of Q to rest his head on Q’s hip. “Fuck, Alec,” he grated.

“James,” Q protested.

Alec grinned as he twisted his finger and brushed his other hand over Bond’s cock. “We could tease him all fucking night,” he whispered into Bond’s ear.

“I heard that,” Q said in what would have been a threatening growl if not for the way his breath hitched. “Whatever you’re planning, _no_. Not if you don’t _stop stopping_.”

Alec laughed. “That’s barely even English. Look what you’ve done to him, James.”

Bond grinned viciously up at Q. “Be nice, Q, or I may just let Alec have his way.”

“You already are,” Alec said, tightening his fingers around Bond’s cock and giving just the right twist and pressure. “You heard Q, James. Don’t stop.”

Bond bit down on Q’s thigh in an obvious attempt to keep from crying out. Q did, releasing his grip on the bar to grab at Bond’s hair. “James, _please_ ,” he begged.

As Alec heard Bond let go and drag in a breath, he gave another twist and pulled his finger out. “Want more?” he whispered, this time brushing two fingers over Bond’s entrance, without pushing inside.

“Fuck, Alec,” Bond repeated. “How’s this for English.” He turned his head to glare at Alec, snapping out in Russian, “Don’t fucking stop!”

Alec laughed and pushed both fingers into Bond’s body, torturously slow, though he let his other hand relax, just resting against Bond’s cock. In Russian, he said, “Next time, the cuffs go on him. We can do this all fucking night. Your mouth, my hands. Make him beg for more —”

“Assuming I don’t shoot _both_ of you,” Q snapped out in Russian, making both Alec and Bond look up at him in surprise. He huffed and asked, “Did you even _imagine_ I couldn’t understand you? Keep this up, and next time, you’ll be wearing the damned cuffs, Alec.”

Alec tensed at the thought, pulling away from Bond as the memory hit him like a gunshot.

Bond twisted around, and the rattle of the chain between his wrists, even muffled by the cloth, made Alec go cold.

“Alec, no,” Bond whispered before he turned to glare at Q. “Are you kidding me, Q? You know better than that.”

Q pushed out from between the bar and Bond. He crouched in front of Alec, saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry —”

“It’s fine,” Alec interrupted sharply. He took a deep breath, shaking his head, and tried to push the memories away. He touched them both, reminding himself that he was safe, though it didn’t help. “I’m fine,” he lied.

Q leaned in and kissed him, the touch tentative and light, as if he were scared Alec would lash out at him. “Where are the keys?”

Hating himself, Alec closed his eyes; he couldn’t bear to see Q afraid of him. “Front pocket of my jeans.” As he heard Q move away, he sat down, leaning heavily against Bond’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. _Fuck_.”

“Alec, _no_. This isn’t your fault. You know that, and I know that. _He_ knows that.” Bond turned his head to kiss Alec’s temple. “Do you want to keep going? I’m fine, if you do. I’m actually doing really well. The cuffs can even stay on. That is, if you’re comfortable with it.”

The sound of Bond’s voice did more to calm Alec than his words. He huffed out what was supposed to be a laugh and said, “We’re already ruining your fucking jacket.”

“I don’t give a fucking shit about the jacket.”

Q came back, now holding Alec’s keys. “Just a moment,” he said in English, startling Alec. He hadn’t realised they’d still been speaking Russian.

Alec got to his feet and circled the bar, not listening as Q and Bond talked. About _him_ , most likely. He cleaned his hands on a towel and tried to avoid thinking about what had just happened. He didn’t have the energy to get the vodka from the freezer, so he settled for the whiskey Q had got down earlier. Drinking was probably a terrible idea, but he had the self-restraint to use a glass instead of drinking right from the bottle, and that counted for something.

“Alec?” Bond’s voice drew Alec’s attention. He couldn’t help but note how calm Bond sounded; he wished he could say the same about himself. “Cuffs on or off?”

“Off.” Alec poured a bit too much into Q’s glass and drank it down, trying not to listen to the metallic ratchet of the cuffs being unlocked. Even though he knew better, he poured a second drink, but didn’t lift it.

Then Bond stood and leaned against the bar, flexing his shoulders. Guiltily, Alec wondered if they’d left him bound too long.

“You okay?” Bond asked as Q also rose. Instead of joining them at the bar, he went to put Bond’s clothes and holster on the coffee table.

Alec nodded. After a moment, he pushed the glass over to Bond. “You?”

“Someone is massaging my shoulders later, but other than that, I’m good.”

Alec got another glass off the shelf and filled it. He looked over at Q, who was lurking by the sofa as if trying to be invisible. “Fuck,” Alec whispered, glancing at Bond for help.

Bond turned to follow Alec’s line of sight. “He did say he was sorry. And it wasn’t like he tried to slap the cuffs on you, he just shot his mouth off,” he reasoned. Turning back, he smiled at Alec. “Of course you could just let him stand there like a weepy Victorian princess, but I don’t think —”

“A _what?_ ” Q demanded.

“Fucking shit, James,” Alec snapped, abandoning his drink to go to Q, though all he really wanted to do was leave for a few hours, until this all blew over. He touched Q’s face with one hand, braced against the fear that Q would pull away. “It’s fine, Q.”

Q took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

“And I shouldn’t still be a fucking stubborn arse about it. It’s a job hazard. It happens.” Alec leaned down and kissed him lightly. “I have to get over it some time, right?”

Q huffed, though at least when he opened his eyes, he didn’t look away. “Bloody awful timing.”

Some of the tension eased from Alec’s chest. “If James hadn’t stopped, it never would’ve happened at all. Right?” he asked, looking over at Bond. “This is all _his_ fault.”

“I heard that.” Bond smirked, tipping his glass in their direction.

Q’s laugh was shaky. He leaned against Alec’s chest, muttering, “It’s not —”

“Yes, it is,” Alec interrupted, putting his arms around Q. They were both still tense — he could feel the way his own heart was still racing and Q’s body was almost rigid in his arms — but Bond was calm. Alec latched onto that calm, staring at him, taking comfort in his steady presence. He gave a forced smile even though he knew Bond, at least, wouldn’t fall for it and said, “That’s why he’s still over there. He’s avoiding us.”

Bond swallowed his drink in one shot and set the tumbler down on the bar. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse my newfound freedom.”

He stalked across the room, never looking away from Alec’s eyes as if knowing how much Alec needed him. He stopped beside them, buried his fingers in Alec’s hair, and tugged hard — harder than he would have with Q. Alec’s eyes fell closed, and he let out a shaky breath. The sharp physical pain was just enough to help push Alec’s memories aside, reminding him where he was and who was with him. Reminding him that he was safe.

“I feel the sudden urge to take advantage of everything in reach,” Bond continued when Alec opened his eyes once more. He met Alec’s gaze for a heartbeat before he leaned in close. His tongue rasped over Alec’s stubble before he bit hard on the sensitive spot just below his ear.

With a soft curse, Alec slid one arm around Bond, pulling him closer without letting go of Q. “For once, your idea isn’t complete shit,” he said roughly as Bond released the bite. He untangled his fingers from Alec’s hair, smoothing the strands down.

“I think we've already established that my ideas are anything but shit,” Bond mused, giving them both his most charming smile. “Now, do you think we can move this evening along? Last time I checked, someone was trying to fuck me.”

“James,” Q scolded.

Alec shook his head, interrupting whatever Q was going to say next. “I’m fine. All right?”

Q sighed and gave him a half-smile. “Stubborn arse,” he accused.

Alec grinned. “You should be nicer to James, if you want him to get back to what he was doing.”

Q’s glare lasted for only an instant before he looked away, trying to hide a smile of his own. “I don’t have to be nice at all.”

Bond reached over to pull Q away from Alec and into his own arms. “Yes, you do. Because I _am_ inclined to finish what I started, and if you aren’t nice, I might make you beg.” Before Q had a chance to respond, Bond leaned in for a searing kiss that even Alec could feel, and another knot of tension inside Alec eased.

Wanting to reassure Q, Alec moved behind him and wrapped his arms around Q’s slender waist. He nudged Q’s hair out of the way and kissed his nape, pressing against Q’s back. Trapped between them, Q shivered and gave in with a quiet, satisfied groan.

When Bond’s kiss ended, Q drew in a shaky breath and asked, “Are we done with your security exercise? Can we at least move to the sofa?”

Bond reached up to twist his fingers into Q’s hair and pull Q’s head back against Alec’s shoulder. Q’s hiss made Alec smile, and he looked up to see Bond wearing a matching smile. Softly, Bond murmured in Q’s ear, “No. I don’t think we’ll be moving to the sofa anytime soon. You had me, but you released me. If you want me to stay compliant, then tell me: What are you going to do with me?”

Q started to turn, but Alec stopped him, resting his cheek against the side of Q’s head to keep him looking at Bond. “Don’t ask me,” Alec said quietly. “You’re the genius. Answer the question.”

Q took a deep breath, and Alec felt Q’s long fingers brush over his hip. “I want to watch you. Both of you.”

Alec saw the subtle, almost hidden way Bond’s eyes went wide. Expression carefully neutral, Bond asked, “And you, Quartermaster? What would you like us to do to you?”

Again, Q tried to turn, but Alec and Bond both stopped him. “I don’t —” Q began, finally shaking his head. “Anything. Anything you want.”

Feeling just a bit guilty, Alec laughed and kissed Q’s neck. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier.” He dropped his hands down, teasing at Q’s semi-hard cock. “More of that?”

Q’s breath caught. He nodded, moving both hands to Bond’s hips. “Would you?” he asked softly.

When Bond kissed Q again, it was slow and luxurious. He ran his hands up between Q’s back and Alec’s chest, and then moved them back down to Alec’s hips. He pulled Alec impossibly closer, caging Q between them.

Taking Bond’s cue, Alec licked Q’s shoulder once before he sank his teeth into the soft, unscarred flesh. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds he and Bond teased from Q. The memory began to pass, leaving Alec able to relax and push up against Q’s body. He wanted to say something, to reignite the fires of Q’s imagination, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

Bond gently broke away from Q and sank slowly to the floor, running his hands down Alec’s thighs. He nipped lightly at Q’s hip before looking up at Alec. “Hold him still for me, would you?”

Alec nodded and wrapped his arms around Q’s waist, holding him lightly but firmly. Q leaned back into the touch and stared down at Bond, reaching out to brush a hand over his hair. He wrapped his free hand around Alec’s forearm, holding them both. Alec turned to kiss Q’s temple, but most of his attention was fixed on Bond as he mouthed his way up Q’s cock before taking him in again.

Q sighed and let his head fall against Alec’s shoulder. Alec’s arms tightened, hands splayed against Q’s chest and abdomen. Bond still held Alec’s legs, but his concentration was wholly on Q, without the sharp awareness that Alec knew they’d both been feeling since everything had nearly fallen apart a few minutes earlier.

More than anything else, that confidence in their security helped free Alec from the last, lingering memories of that damned mission. He lowered his head to Q’s shoulder and bit again, making Q’s groan cut off on a sharp breath.

Bond ran his hands up and down the back of Alec’s thighs, letting blunt nails scratch along as he did. He repeatedly drew his tongue along the underside of Q’s shaft to push the tip up along the roof of his mouth, just the way they both knew Q liked. The stuttered moan that came from Q was confirmation enough.

“Q,” Alec said softly in his ear. When Q hummed and turned to brush his head against Alec’s jaw, Alec said, “You wanted to watch.”

Q inhaled sharply. He turned to try and meet Alec’s eyes. “Yes.”

Bond dug his fingers into Alec’s thighs and looked at him, questioningly, never letting up on Q’s cock. When Alec stepped back, Bond moved his hands to Q’s legs. Alec stopped beside Q just long enough to claim a slow, deep kiss before he looked around the room, wondering what the hell had happened to the lube. He spotted it across the room and went for it, pausing only for a moment when he saw the array of weapons laid out on the bar. Usually, he and Bond kept at least one weapon close at hand, even here at home, but Alec had no particular urge to move one of the guns to the coffee table. He was safe.

By the time Alec returned, Q had both hands in Bond’s hair, though he only held on lightly. He’d spread his legs for balance, and Bond had taken advantage of it to cup Q’s balls. Q originally wasn’t a fan of being touched there, claiming he was too sensitive. It hadn’t taken Bond long, though, to figure out just the right stroke that had made Q almost beg for it every time since. Alec couldn’t help but smile at that. Bond had always just been that fucking good at reading his partners — better than Alec, who tended to get lost in his own pleasure if he wasn’t too careful.

Alec knelt down behind Bond and leaned in to bite his shoulder hard, harder than he’d ever bite Q. Bond grunted and reached up with his other hand to wrap around Alec’s nape, pushing the bite even further. Alec shuddered and relaxed, dropping his free hand to Bond’s cock. He stroked once, roughly, and watched as Bond stilled, obviously trying to collect himself and not pull away from Q as he had last time. After a moment, he went back to sucking on Q with just a bit more desperation.

Alec couldn’t resist one more rough stroke, with just the right pressure, as he let up on the bite. He licked the imprint of his teeth and said softly, “If you stop, I stop,” as he uncapped the bottle. “Remember, he wants to watch.”

Bond nodded minutely and released his hold on Alec to slide his hand over the undercurve of Q’s arse. He sat up a bit more on his knees and angled his body both to give Alec better access and to give Q a better view.

“God, yes,” Q said softly, looking away from Bond to meet Alec’s eyes for just a moment. The last traces of guilt had gone from his expression, leaving him unguarded and flushed with desire. Alec wanted to stand and kiss him, but the lure of having Bond like this, after so long, was too much. He broke away from Q’s gaze and coated his fingers with lube, watching the faint shudder that went through Bond’s body at the sound of the plastic cap.

At the first push of one finger inside Bond’s body, Alec realised he had no desire to draw this out. Bond was still relaxed, and Alec didn’t hesitate to add a second finger. Moving his hand as slowly as he could, Alec nipped Bond’s shoulder and said, “Let me know when it’s enough.”

“Lean back, Alec,” Q breathed out. “I can’t see.”

Bond snorted in amusement around Q’s cock as Alec laughed and did as he was told. He moved back and dropped the lube so he could take hold of Bond’s hip. A tug pulled Bond back as far as possible without losing his hold on Q. “Better?”

As Q stared down at them, barely even nodding, his gaze become more focused, more intense. He didn’t just seem to be watching; he was concentrating on the act in front of him. It made Alec twist his hand harder, fingertips searching inside Bond’s body. “James,” he said, barely managing to keep the word from becoming a demand.

Understanding, Bond moved his hands from Q’s balls to grab and lightly twist at the base of his cock. Q groaned and lost control, finally pushing into Bond’s mouth. Bond’s growl was choked off, but he didn’t let up.

“Fuck,” Alec whispered, pulling his fingers out of Bond’s body. Bond huffed in protest, and Alec laughed, the sound harsh in his own ears. He poured lube into his hand and stroked his own cock, closing his eyes at the way fire spread under his skin. Q was stronger than he looked, but he liked being fucked slowly, always a test of Alec’s self-restraint. With Bond, he didn’t have to hold back.

His first push made Bond’s breath catch. Alec dropped a hand to Bond’s hip, fingers digging in hard. Instead of pulling away or going tense, Bond bore down and pushed back as much as he could as if demanding Alec not hold back. Dangerously close to just _taking_ , Alec pushed all the way, knowing he was going too hard, too fast, but unable to stop himself. When his hips touched Bond’s arse, he had to stop moving and catch his breath. “Fucking hell, James.”

A light touch on his hair made him open his eyes and look up. Q’s hand fell to rest on Bond’s head as he straightened back up. “Don’t stop,” Q said to them both.

Bond pulled off and looked up as well. “Christ, Q, I’ve never seen you last this long,” he said as he caught his breath. “Are you even close, yet?”

Q smiled sheepishly at him. “Sorry. Two glasses of whiskey and all.”

Bond laughed, and Alec swore under his breath, because he could feel it all through Bond’s body. “I can fix that,” Bond said. He leaned back down to take Q all the way in, both hands on his arse, licking and sucking with a new sense of resolve.

Q gasped and fell slightly forward, his hand moving to Bond’s shoulder, and locked eyes with Alec. “God, please. Don’t stop, Alec, _please_.”

Had their roles been reversed, Alec knew Bond would have had a snarky comeback — _I haven’t even started_ or something like that — but Alec couldn’t find it in himself to speak. Instead, he started to move, driving hard and fast into Bond’s body, making him gasp and groan around Q’s cock. Distantly, he heard Q say something, but the words were lost over the sound of his own harsh breaths and pounding heart.

Then Q’s sharp cry — _“James!”_ — cut through Alec’s haze. He looked up to see Q’s hands fisted in Bond’s hair, holding him still. Q’s head was thrown back, body shuddering, and the gorgeous sight made Alec go still to watch.

Barely moving, Bond eased Q through the aftershocks of his orgasm, head tipped back as much as possible so he could also watch. When Bond finally pulled away from Q, Alec leaned down to pull Bond into his lap. “Bring him down here with us,” he whispered into Bond’s ear, never looking away from Q. He was staring back down at them, unsteady on his feet, looking beautifully dazed and sated.

“Q, come here,” Bond urged quietly, lifting his hands to take hold of Q’s. He guided Q to kneel in front of them both, and then pulled Q in for a gentle kiss. The motion rocked his body around Alec’s cock, making Alec’s fingers twitch hard against Bond’s hips. Alec growled, and Q pulled free of the kiss to give him a surprised look. With a quiet laugh, Bond asked, “What would you like now?”

Q’s hand dropped out of sight, and Alec felt Bond’s body go tight around him. “Don’t stop,” he encouraged, meeting Alec’s eyes as he licked over Bond’s ear. “I never get to watch you two.”

Alec let out a harsh laugh. “So fucking demanding,” he teased as he pulled almost all the way out of Bond’s body. With a shift of position to change his angle, he thrust up hard into Bond, driving him forward into Q’s hand.

“Fuck,” Bond ground out as his hands went to Q’s shoulders, gripping hard. He started to lean in for what might have been a kiss, but stopped short. Instead, he dropped his head between his arms, panting. “Sorry. Right. You want to watch,” he muttered without looking back up.

As Alec slid out and thrust back in again, Q laughed, a wicked edge to the sound. “Losing your mission focus, James?” Q teased, moving in rhythm with Alec’s thrusts.

“Fuck the mission,” Alec growled, quickly losing sight of anything but his own growing pleasure. Bond’s body was hot, tensing every time Q stroked him just right. Needing more — needing _everything_ — Alec moved one hand up to Bond’s shoulder and pulled sharply down as he thrust up.

Bond hissed as his self-control finally broke. He wrapped a hand around Q’s nape and yanked him in for another kiss, all pretence of being gentle now gone. As Q began to work Bond more intently, Alec fucked him hard and fast. He pushed Bond into Q to get a better angle and growled as the pleasure went from a rising burn to an all-consuming flame.

Before Alec could even think of holding back, Q pulled back from the kiss and reached for Alec. The scrape of blunt nails over his nape and shoulder made him gasp, and he thrust up even harder, taking everything Bond and Q offered. It was too much, stealing his breath and rational thought. Short, sharp thrusts pushed him over the edge, making his vision white out as the world around him stopped.

“God, yes. Alec,” Q said, pulling him in for a hot, messy kiss over Bond’s shoulder. Trembling with the aftermath, Alec pulled free of Bond’s body and covered Q’s hand with his own, wrapping his fingers around Bond’s cock, listening to the desperate rhythm of Bond’s breaths. He turned from kissing Q to kissing Bond’s neck instead; with a quiet moan, Q did the same on Bond’s other side, spreading his fingers to catch Alec’s.

Bond reached up to hold them both in place so he could thrust into their joined hands. Q murmured encouragement against Bond’s skin, but Alec stayed silent, losing himself in the feel of Bond’s powerful body and the hot skin over Bond’s hard cock. The moment Bond went still, Alec pulled his hand up over the head of his cock, and Bond let out an intense groan. Heat spilled over Alec’s fingers as Q took over, working Bond through his pleasure more gently.

“James, god,” Q said, kissing Bond as he moved his free hand to rest on Alec’s shoulder. When Bond broke the kiss, gasping for breath, Q opened his eyes to smile lazily at Alec. “Both of you.”

Bond laughed quietly and settled back against Alec. “Well, it’s a good thing your self-defence training has been such shit. This was substantially more productive.” He paused to smile languidly and catch his breath. “I don’t know. What do you think, Alec? Think we should talk to the higher-ups about letting _us_ teach the classes?”

“Do, and I’ll use _you_ for voltage-testing my new stun guns,” Q threatened. “Stay here. _Someone_ decided not to bother with planning and neglected towels.” He got shakily to his feet.

“This was all James’ idea,” Alec said quickly as he put his arms comfortably around Bond, unconcerned by the mess. Laughing at them, Q left the room.

Bond tilted his head to cast an amused glare at Alec. “You know, it seems the reason my ideas are always shit is because you keep deflecting your bad ones onto me. Have you noticed that?”

“I took a bullet for you. More than once,” Alec reminded him with a huff, suppressing his affectionate smile. “You should be nicer to me.”

“You once blew up an embassy with me in it. Pretty sure we’re even.”

“Yes, but unlike _some people,_ I didn’t get caught blowing up the embassy” Alec countered, grinning. “It doesn’t count if you don’t get caught.” His arms tightened and he looked over at the couch, where he knew the handcuffs were buried under Bond’s clothing. Quietly, he said, “I’m sorry about before.”

“Alec, stop. Seriously.” Bond reached over to rub Alec’s thigh. “It happens, you know that. It’s part of the bloody job, for Christ’s sake. Honestly, I would be more worried if you _didn’t_ have any issues. We’re sociopathic enough. Let’s not make it any worse by trying to psychoanalyse it.”

Alec laughed and looked back towards the doorway. “As long as Q’s all right with having to put up with our shit.” He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “Next time, I’ll try the cuffs. I’ve got to get over it eventually.”

Bond sat up to turn sideways and face Alec. He touched Alec’s jaw, concern and determination evident in his eyes. “No, you don’t. They’re cuffs, Alec. No one _needs_ to wear them. You’ve been bound, what, four times since that week? You managed to get yourself through every single one of them. There is _no bloody reason_ that has to come into our bedroom, unless we want it.” He leaned over to kiss Alec firmly on the forehead. “If you want to try and break this, then I’ll help you. But we are not going to use sex to do it, do you understand me?”

“Is James _actually_ making sense?” Q asked as he stepped through the doorway, carrying a bundle of towels..

“Don’t get used to it,” Alec said, holding up a hand. Q threw him one of the towels, and he dropped it onto Bond’s lap without letting him go. “And this doesn’t get _you_ out of self-defence training.” He caught the second towel and used it to clean his hand before dropping it into his own lap.

Q grimaced and fell onto the couch, curling up against the arm with his eyes half-closed. “Pull a gun on me now and I’ll have _both_ your cars repossessed.”

Bond gave Alec a fierce grin. “Now, see, that sounds like a challenge to me. What do you think?”

“Oh, brilliant fucking plan, James. Piss off the genius who’s got our fucking bank account numbers. We shouldn’t have let you out of the bloody cuffs to begin with,” Alec said, pushing Bond away so he could join Q on the sofa.

Bond laughed and got up to retrieve the whiskey from the bar. He grabbed three fresh glasses and carried everything to the coffee table. He sat down on Alec’s other side, and Alec realised only then that things had changed. They always used to surround Q, each of them claiming a corner while Q curled up between them or sprawled across their laps.

As if reading Alec’s thoughts, Bond smiled at him. “I’m disappointed in you. We’ve been at this since it was just paper trails. Are you saying we can’t outsmart Q in a friendly game of cloak and dagger?” He brushed his fingers over Alec’s hand before taking hold.

Alec looked from Bond to Q and grinned. Between them, he and Bond had a lifetime of experience that all the theoretical genius in the world couldn’t match, but Q had something else — whatever it was that had let him become the linchpin of their relationship. He squeezed Bond’s hand and put an arm around Q’s shoulders to pull him close. “What do you think, Q? Can you take us?”

“Challenge accepted.” Q smiled serenely and regarded each of them in turn. “James, pour the drinks. Alec, order dinner. Then we can discuss the rules.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us both on tumblr at [kryptaria](http://www.kryptaria.tumblr.com/) and [stephrc79](http://www.stephrc79.tumblr.com/). Come say hi!


End file.
